Magic Everlasting
by Intrepid Bandicoot
Summary: The Marauders forever remain a Hogwarts legend. But how did they start? How did they become what they were? Was there a fifth Marauder? Let's find out.
1. Chapter 1

**Part I**

**~o~**

A sharp whistle tore through the din of the crowd. As it always was on the first of September, the platform 9 ¾ was full to bursting with exited young witches and wizards and their families. The First years were the easiest to spot, not only because of their height, but also due to the unmistakable look of unease on their faces. After all, the legendary Hogwarts was surrounded by countless tales, and those overexcited youngsters had quite a hard time distinguishing hard facts from all the claptrap their older brothers and sisters told them to pull their leg. Therefore, such questions as "Do I have to go this year?" or "Is it true they've got vampires teaching classes?" could be heard on occasion. Nonetheless, the predominant mood on the platform was upbeat.

Since most of the people arrived here through the concealed archway from a Muggle platform, they had tried their best to look the part. Most ensembles could classified as mildly bewildering, some – a truly unfortunate and a select few – downright disastrous. Somewhere towards the middle of the platform, for instance, three girls were hugging their father, who was confidently sporting a black wet suit, complemented by an avocado-green trench coat, while his wife wore a blue dressing gown and a pair of brown Wellingtons. An elderly couple was observing this family moment in a scandalized manner, quite confident they had all the right to do so. Indeed, their appearance was completely opposite. They wore expensive woolen coats with perfectly tailored suits underneath, all black. A string of perfect pearls decorated the woman's neck; a golden chain, stretching across the man's stomach, indicated a watch hiding in his vest pocket. All the people passing by were giving the couple a wide berth, indicating that the man and a woman were certainly respected.

While the man glared about him in earnest, the woman looked much less severe. It appeared that she had only mirrored her husband's expression without infusing it with a suitable emotion.

"The nerve of some people," the man grumbled haughtily, turning to his wife. "Lunatics!" he spat contemptuously.

"At least we know they are pure-bloods," the woman replied. Her answer, just like her expression earlier, sounded empty of the contempt it required. "If they were Muggle-borns, they'd know how to dress properly."

"If they were Mudbloods, Io," the man hissed, "I wouldn't be standing anywhere near them, now would I?"

"Of course not," Io replied hastily. "Mind your heart, Abraxas," she cautioned.

The man huffed.

A tall youth strolled brusquely towards them. He could almost be called handsome, with his long silvery blond hair and his refined facial features, if it were not for the sour, sneering look on his face. A small boy unwisely chose to wander across his path and was lazily and unceremoniously pushed aside. His black trunk bobbed along in his wake. At closer look, one could spot a tiny house elf who, doubled up and wheezing, lugged the trunk on his back. The poor creature was drenched in sweat, the tip of its long nose bruised raw from being rubbed against the pavement many times in a row.

"Father," the boy drawled resentfully. "They made Sebastian Mancini a Head Boy. The Mudblood Mancini, a Head Boy!" he raised his voice, seeing his parents' initial lack of appropriate reaction. The _magic_ word worked and his father's face became contorted with anger once more. Diligently, Io mimicked her husband again.

"Absurd," Abraxas hissed. The boy sneered. "Oh, I know whose fault this is," Abraxas continued, his thin nostril flaring angrily. "That's Dumbledore's doing. By Jupiter, the place has gone to the dogs ever since he took over. He favors those upstarts every chance he gets. Things will only get worse, mark my word. It is a fine thing indeed, Lucius, that this year is already your fifth."

"Indeed," Lucius agreed. "Professor Slughorn and I have been discussing some career choices once I'm done with school. It is a hard thing at the present time to find a respectable place. I wouldn't want to mix with _their_ kind any more than absolutely necessary. A challenging task, to say the least, but I consider it a matter of honor to excel at it, just as I excel at the rest of my duties." He puffed up his chest where the silvery Prefect badge gleamed atop the inky black fabric of his brand new school robes.

Abraxas smiled proudly, clapping Lucius crisply on the shoulder.

"Good man," he said. He opened his mouth to say something else, but at that very moment he was interrupted.

"Mother, Father!" a young voice called. Upon hearing this voice, the face of the older gentleman soured again. He briefly looked in the direction of the train where a tiny girl was hanging out of the window and waving at him. The girl had the most vivid, offensively shocking red hair that hung to her waist and brilliant emerald-green eyes. Abraxas nodded curtly in her direction and turned away. Lucius ignored her completely. This time however, Io had great difficulty in following in her husband's footsteps. Her eyes lit up as she heard the girl's voice, and for the first time a smile graced her face. It was the only instance she had let her true emotions slip through her tight defenses. This occurrence, however, was extremely brief. In a moment, her face was once again a perfect double of the man right next to her.

"Another good thing, Father," Lucius drawled. "This year you'll be rid of _her_."

"True," Abraxas said. "She's your problem now, Lucius." Having not thought of this beforehand, Lucius adopted the look of pure aggravation.

"A disgrace to the name Malfoy, this girl," Abraxas continued, shaking his head. "It is your side of the family she gets it from," he threw at his wife. Io gave a barely-discernable flinch, as though she had been slapped, but remained silent.

"Watch her carefully, Lucius, my boy," Mr. Malfoy instructed him. "She has tried to free it again," he jerked his head in the direction of the house-elf who was now wiping his face on the pillowcase he was dressed in, still panting heavily.

"What are you waiting for?!" Lucius barked at the elf. "Put it on the train!" he ordered, slapping the elf upside the head. The tiny creature yelped, and bowing hastily to his young master, fastened his twig-like hands around one of the handles of the trunk and dragged it in the direction of the train. As soon as the girl caught sight of the struggling elf, she at once ran outside, and throwing a dirty look at Lucius, grabbed the trunk as well.

"No, young Mistress mustn't do this!" the elf squealed horrified, trying to push her away. "It is Dobby's job!" The only thing he managed to succeed in doing was loosing his grip on the trunk and dropping it squarely on his foot. Squealing, the elf tried to both lift the trunk and slap away the girl's helping hand, miserably failing at both.

"Don't be ridiculous, Dobby," the girl rolled her eyes, lifting the trunk with considerable effort. "See, much better now," she grunted as Dobby hopped around on his healthy foot, rubbing the crushed one with his hands. "Just help me with this, all right?" she panted. "And don't you push me away, is that clear?" she asked sternly.

"Yes, young Mistress," the elf piped, glancing fearfully at the faces of the other three Malfoys.

"Don't look there," the girl ordered sharply. "Come now, heave!" The girl and the elf grabbed hold of the trunk again and with joined effort tugged it aboard the train.

"Fool of a girl," the older man said. "No Malfoy would be caught dead befriending such vermin." Io's lined face drained promptly of whatever little color it had left, but again she said nothing.

Another whistle blew and Lucius, having received hugs from both of his parents, made haste to climb aboard the train.

As the locomotive clunked into action, many children ran to the windows, shouting their goodbyes to their families on the platform. Lucius's smug face also appeared in the window of his compartment, flanked by five of his fellows Slytherins. While he waved importantly to his father and mother, only the former answered him exclusively. Taking advantage of her husband's distraction, Io turned the other way, towards the one compartment that was empty, save for one person, her daughter. The girl noticed her mother at once and waved enthusiastically back at her. Io smiled lovingly at the girl, tears running down her cheeks

The train issued powerful jets of steam as it gradually gathered speed. Some people remaining on the platform broke into a run to delay the separation, even if for mere moments. The Malfoys remained where they were; neither their age nor their pride allowed them to pursue the train. Another minute and it was gone.

Immediately, the platform filled with multiple cracking noises as some of the adults began Disapparating, while the others made their way towards the gate back to the Muggle world.

Just then, Mr. Malfoy noticed Dobby, who cowered at his feet.

"You!" he spat. "Have you nothing to do? Back to the house!" He nudged the elf with the tip of his gleaming shoe. Dobby bowed humbly, his bat-like ears sweeping the ground, and was gone in a snap of his bony fingers.

Abraxas than turned to Io, who continued to stare in the direction the train had gone.

"Is something a matter, dear?" Mr. Malfoy asked. His voice was filled with pure annoyance at the fact that his wife decided to indulge in a cry in such a public place.

"Rubbish, really," Io replied firmly, pulling out a snow-white handkerchief and wiping her eyes. "Honestly, I do not abide trains at all. Such filthy things, gusting clouds of dust all about."

Abraxas nodded, completely indifferent to getting to the bottom of the matter.

"After you, then," he said.

A dual crack ripped through the air and the couple was gone.

**~o~**


	2. Chapter 2

**~o~**

The day rolled on and the train rolled further. Unseen to Muggle eyes, the scarlet locomotive sped along the serpentine track, passing by small villages and towns, forests and lakes, valleys and hills, making steady progress towards its goal.

The Hogwarts Express was only meant for transportation of young witches and wizards. It was simply unheard of to meet an adult on the train, other than the driver and a plump kindly witch who rolled around the sweets cart. The absence of adults was very conspicuous indeed, due to the behavior on board. The train was filled with loud cheerful babble, loud busts of laughter, and the stomping of the feet as students chased each other through the corridors.

Near the end of the train, one compartment remained shut, oblivious to the disturbances outside. This compartment, occupied by a single, exceptionally red-headed passenger, remained quiet. The girl sat by the widow, one of her spell books open on her lap. In her other hand she held her brand new wand of dark-brown cherry wood. Her fingers were wrapped around it with extreme reverence. Ever since the wand touched her hand at Mr. Olivander's shop, she had an overwhelming desire to hold it, proudly examining all its thirteen glorious inches. Her finger roamed through the list of many spells, finally stopping on the one she fancied. Gripping the wand tighter, her heart thumping with anticipation, the girl pointed her wand at the empty wand box on the table.

"_Locomotor box,_" she said. The box remained still. Looking pensive, the girl flicked her wand, causing the box to leap abruptly in the air and land back on the table. "There we have it," she muttered victoriously, making the box leapfrog all across the compartment.

"_Finite,_" she muttered again and the box froze in mid-air and cluttered to the floor.

"_Lumos,_" she said next. A neat little ball of light blossomed at the end of her wand. After looking it over, she spoke, "_Nox!_" and the light vanished.

"So far, magic doesn't seem difficult at all," she concluded, just as her compartment door slid open.

Startled, the girl jumped, dropping the book under the table and diving to retrieve it. Snatching it up, she turned to see who had come, her forehead colliding spectacularly with a metal peg that supported the table. Through the swarm of sparks in her eyes, she could barely discern a dark-haired boy, peaking curiously into the compartment. Although he was no older than eleven, it was obvious that he was very good-looking. The confident manner in which he leaned against the compartment door suggested that he was already well aware of the fact. For a moment he simply surveyed her with his quick gray eyes.

"What's with the hair?" he asked finally.

"What's it to you?" the girl asked somewhat defensively. She plopped the book on her seat and stood up to face him, her wand still in her hand.

"Careful where you point this thing," the boy warned. "Do you even know how to use it?"

"More than you do, I'm sure," the girl replied.

"Hardly," the boy said smugly. "What is your name anyway?"

"Cordelia," the girl said, tucking the wand away. "And yours?"

"Sirius. Sirius Black," he replied, flipping his long hair out of his eyes with one elegant toss of the head. "Cordelia who? You're not a Weasley, are you? We'd be related if you were."

"No," Cordelia shook her head. The idea of being related to this boy was not at all appealing to her.

"Makes sense," the boy said thoughtfully. "You make the whole lot of them look like blondes," he said, once again turning his attention to her hair.

"It looks all right to me," Cordelia snapped.

Sirius pulled a face.

"Have you even seen yourself in the last ten years?" he smirked.

"Have you?" Cordelia replied, narrowing her eyes. "With the way your hair gets in your eyes like that, you can't even see where you're going. You'll trip and crack that big head of yours."

The boy straightened.

"If you're such a bore," he said irately, "I'll just go then."

"Fine," Cordelia said angrily.

"Fine," Sirius repeated, shutting the door.

Alone, the girl sighed sadly, lowering herself into one of the empty seats. The encounter went not at all like she wanted. Just her luck, she thought, the first person she had met on the train chock-full of children was the one boy as full of himself as her older brother.

Not five minutes after Sirius left, the compartment door was thrown open and another boy jumped in, abruptly shutting it behind him. He pulled on the compartment door with all his weight, roaring with laughter. The door trembled, and by the voices outside, it was apparent that several other boys outside were attempting to open it. Slowly, the door started to give in. Just then, the boy noticed he was not alone.

"Little help?" he panted, turning to Cordelia who observed him curiously.

Happy to be of some use, the girl ran up to him. Both of them grunted, trying to keep the door locked. It was still not enough and the door started opening again. James grunted in frustration. All of a sudden, Cordelia remembered something. Snatching her wand out of her pocket, she pointed it at the door.

"_Colloportus!_" she shouted. The door immediately slid shut, to the immense frustration of the boys on the other side.

"Come out, James!" one boy shouted. "You're cheating!"

"No rules, are there? How can I cheat?" the boy named James laughed.

"We'll get you yet!" another voice came.

"You're all talk and no trousers, Longbottom," James taunted.

"You're the one who's going to end up with no trousers, Potter," Longbottom replied. "Let's go, mates," he addressed his laughing companions. "He can't sit there forever, not after all the pumpkin juice he guzzled." Several parting kicks on the door later, the boys were gone.

Still laughing, James collapsed into a seat.

"Thanks a bunch," he said, wiping his eyes. "That spell of yours came really handy in a tight spot."

"It was nothing, really," Cordelia replied, smiling also. Only now she got the chance to see the boy properly. Like Sirius before him, he also looked like a First year, but he looked fairly tall for his age. He was thin and bespectacled, his black hair mussed to such a degree, Cordelia thought this boy had lost his comb about a week ago.

"Pretty good piece of magic," James continued, making himself comfortable. "How'd you get so good?"

"Good?" Cordelia asked. A true stranger to praises, she felt astounded at having finally encountered one.

"How many times have you done it?" James demanded.

"Just this once," Cordelia admitted.

"Doing something right for the first time means being good at it," James said confidently.

"I guess I am good then," Cordelia admitted, reddening slightly.

"James Potter," the boy said, offering his hand.

"Cordelia Malfoy," she replied, shaking it.

"Malfoy?" James frowned. "Haven't heard much good about your lot."

With James, Cordelia did not feel like getting on the defensive.

"There's really not much good about them," she agreed, shrugging.

"You're all right, though," James decided, smiling again. "Gum?" he reached into his pocket and procured a small pack of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.

"Sure," Cordelia smiled. James tossed her the gum.

"See you at school than," James said, getting up. "Hope we end up in the same house, Gryffindor. That's where I'm headed. Could you?" he nodded at the door that was still sealed by Cordelia spell.

"Oh, yes," Cordelia remembered. She pointed at the door. "_Alohomora!_" she said and the door slid open.

"Aren't they going to catch you as soon as you come out?" Cordelia asked, disappointed that the only friendly person she met so far was on his way out.

"It's sport only," James chuckled. "Frank's just sore I drank all his pumpkin juice. Cheers!" He waved at her and walked off.

Sighing, Cordelia picked up her schoolbook again, hoping that some more pleasant company would come bursting through her compartment door before long.

**~o~O~o~**

Unfortunately, the rest of the day passed without incident. Pouring over her books, Cordelia started to feel increasingly lonely. She would be almost happy to see that Black boy swagger back into her compartment. Hours had passed without bringing any visitors. Only once, Cordelia overheard the two students talk as they passed by her door.

"Really, Severus," the girl was saying. "You need to learn how to ignore those awful boys. You know, the only way they can feel out of the ordinary is when they put someone down."

"I could have taken them," the boy replied menacingly.

"Then you would be as bad as they are," the girl reasoned. "I really don't know why you would want to…"

Cordelia was not able to hear the end of that educational tirade as the couple was walked promptly out of her earshot.

**~o~O~o~**

The train rattled on, leaving behind mile after a mile. Gradually, the darkness fell all around, drowning the dull autumn scenery outside. Sealing the door once again, Cordelia opened her trunk and pulled out her brand new school robes. As she undressed, she looked herself over in the mirror, her face adopting a critical look. She never particularly cared for way she looked. Cordelia was a tad short for her age, and even though she came from a rich family, she always looked rather undernourished. Her knees and elbows were much too sharp; her backbone was taller than it was absolutely necessary, each vertebrae protruding in a spiky, lizard-like fashion under the skin. Her shoulder blades also seemed overlarge for her small frame, giving her a slightly slouching look. Not to mention the hair, Cordelia added mentally, eyeing her acid orange mane with apprehension.

Cordelia put on her new school robes and put her old ones away. She made sure that all her books were safely tucked away, and that her precious wand was safe and snug in her inner pocket. Then she sat down and started to braid her long hair.

Not five minutes after the preparations were complete, the train started slowing down.

**~o~**


End file.
